Abolisher [Drothiker #2]

39.

Azryle awoke to breath tickle his chest.

He knew it was Syrene before he gained enough sense to scent her. His arm was around her—her hair grazing his chin. The gardenia and rain scent filling his nostrils, fogging his mind.

She was awake, lost in thoughts.

He hoped for sun to greet him when he opened his eyes, but ... the sky was still at its darkest, stars twinkling. The forest still glowed—brighter than yesterday, even.

"What if we destroyed the stone?" asked Syrene.

Azryle blinked, his mind dawdling. "What ..."

She sat up and wheeled to face him. "The Key. What if we destroyed it?"

He exhaled, his gaze moving to the stars. "That might unleash whatever's entombed inside."

"What if we hid it?"

"Felset would be led to it."

"Hm," she mused. "Grinon managed to take Drighrem from Felset. He made it something else with his power to keep it from her. We could do that with the Key."

He considered. "I doubt Felset would be foolish enough to allow that to happen again." He shook his head. "Too dangerous. Too foolish."

The furrow between her brows deepened as she pondered. "Okay, no one lives here, right? What if we break the stone here?"

"No one, except the Tiny Moons. Somehow, I doubt Starflame would be very pleased to hear your suggestions right now."

Syrene began tying up her hair, strands of which fell into her face.

Azryle's fingers immediately twitched to untie it.

She tucked that strand behind her ear. "Well, Starflame isn't informed of this place."

He was shaking his head again, even though he knew she was joking. Mildly. "That's a terrible plan."

Syrene held his gaze. "You have to open the portal back to our world soon, Ryle. We cannot be late."

He nodded, as much as he loathed reaching for that mejest. "Where is everyone?" he asked, heeding the silence of the area, the calm river. He could almost imagine the sunlight.

"They've followed the river. A few wanted to bathe—others wanted some time to themselves."

He sketched a brow. "I'm the last one to wake up?"

She nodded, coming to lay down beside him. "I don't blame you though." Those lips slowly formed a grin. "I just happen to be a very comfortable company, Prince."

"Oh?"

Azryle drew himself onto his elbow, before he brought himself atop her, trapping her beneath himself.

Even as her eyes widened slightly, the smirk remained at her lips. "I suppose," he whispered, lowering his lips to her collarbone, "saying I'm craving comfort wouldn't be so inappropriate."

His fingers moved to her waist, lifted her shirt just slightly to meet her skin.

He heard her speeding heart when he slid the sleeve off her shoulder with his mouth and kissed her there. She tilted her head when he moved to the smooth hollow of her neck. She arched slightly beneath him.

"Well," she rasped, "not wholly."

She smiled against her skin, his own heart picking up the unusual pace.

Meanwhile his hand moved to her lower back—ascending, fingers grazing her side, scraping her scars. Syrene shuddered, nails digging in his shoulders.